Missing Piece
by therealbakers
Summary: A series of small drabbles about Castiel's life as a human. Some Destiel. Set after 8.23.
1. Cold

Cold was a new feeling to him. He decided that it was very unpleasant. But at that time he believed that he deserved unpleasant. When the rain had started to fall his trenchcoat had proved itself not water resisant, and so the damp had soaked through to his clothes and, as it felt to him, into his bones. But he didn't mind. In fact he was trying to concentrate on the cold, enhance it even. Anything to occpy his mind so it did not stray to destructive thoughts.

And so the fallen angel sat, curled up under a tree, dried tear tracts on his face and cold in his bones, denying his mind thoughts of falling brothers and a stolen glimmer of white in a small glass bottle.


	2. Dean

_**Dean.**_ The first thought that entered his head when he awoke. He didn't know where he was but it was warm, and it smelled very much like his best friend. He didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to. Wherever he was he didn't deserve to be there. He deserved to be out in the cold, in the dark, thinking on his sins. But he wasn't.

It was easy now, not to think destructive thoughts. The smell surrounding him encouraged him to think of one thing. His favourite thing. A thing that involved green eyes, chestnut hair, layers of plaid and the faint smell of motor oil and apple pie. So he lay in warmth and thought of Dean.


	3. Green

Green eyes awaited him when he eventually opened his eyes. Just the green eyes he'd been thinking about. He had expected their anger, their disappointment, but all they held was concern. They looked almost as concerned as their owner. Again he felt as though he was unworthy. He did not deserve Dean's concern. He did not deserve the smile that appeared in those eyes when they realised he was awake. He did not deserve the cracked voice still wrung with worry asking, "Cas?"

But for all that he did not deserve he got it anyway. And the very small part of him that did not yet hate himself, relished in the sound of the green eyed man's voice, and the insurmountable comfort that it brought to his cracked and damaged soul.


	4. Scared

**This one is a bit different as it's from Dean's point of view. Thank you for reading! **

Dean was worried. Actually, Dean was down right scared. Cas hadn't uttered a syllable since he's found him in that forest. He spent most of his time sleeping (Dean guessed this was because he wasn't used to getting tired yet), barely ate, hardly ever left Dean's room and didn't speak at all. The only reason Dean knew that he was human was because he was in the first stages of hypothermia when Dean found him. He had tried to get him to speak, tried to show him that he wasn't angry and that he didn't blame him. Because that was another thing that scared Dean, that Cas blamed himself for the angels falling. But he still wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't talk to anyone.

And so they lived on in one-sided silence, the green eyed man worrying about the fallen angel and the fallen angel punishing himself internally.


	5. Nightmares

The first night of nightmares had been the worst, the most frightening. Castiel had never experienced anything like it before, any fear like it before. It had taken all his will power to stifle the scream that had lept into his lungs as he awoke. On the third night he had not been so lucky, the sream escaped him before he could stop it. After only a few seconds he heard feet padding on the floor outside the room, before the door opened and a shaft of light hit Cas's eyes. A gruff voice laden with sleep broke the heavy silence that had filled the room back up since the scream, "You okay, Cas?" Castiel didn't reply, he merely pulled the covers up to his chin and wiped the tears from his eyes. The green eyes gave him a knowing look, "Nightmares?" There was no reply but the answer was self evident. Cas heard the feet padding on the floor again before the bed creaked under the weight of another person. Blue eyes gave green ones a questioning look, only recieving a shrug in reply as Dean Winchester wrapped his arms around his fallen angel. There were no more nightmares that night.

**This one is longer than the others but it got quite fluffy which is much more fun to write. Again, thank you for reading :)**


	6. Time

**This is from Dean's point of view again. They're gonna start getting more fluffy but if you'd perfer them angsty, tell me, cause I don't mind writing either :)**

It took time, but Cas finally spoke. It was the 7th night of nightmares, and Dean's midnight arrivals were becoming routine. He didn't mind. The blue eyes greeting his arrival and the head of dark hair against his chest prevented nightmares from disrupting his sleep also. But the 7th night was particularily bad. The fallen angel's scream had echoed in the hallway and Dean's arrival hadn't stopped the tears. But the green eyed man perservered, holding Castiel's head to his chest and pressing his lips onto his forehead. And after a while the sobs subsided, and a small, muffled voice murmured into his chest, "Thank you."

And wasn't that something?


	7. Cracks

**I'm switching back to Cas again. Happy Reading :)**

The cracks were not healing. The pain was not subsiding. But it was getting easier somehow. After the 7th night, Castiel decided that wallowing in self pity as he was doing was selfish, and he wanted to useful again, even without the missing piece of himself. He emerged from his sanctuary dressed in one of Dean's shirts and a pair of jeans that were a few inches to long for him. Dean greeted him with a smile and a cry of, "Look who's finally up, sleepy head. Are those my jeans?" Sam was there as well, but his smile was notably more tired, and there were dark bags under his eyes. Castiel sat with them, assisted them with research and joined in occasionally with the mindless chatter.

The cracks were not healing, but they were indeed becoming easier to live with.


	8. The 12th Night

Castiel had stopped having nightmares by the 12th night. His sins still plagued his thoughts during the day but he had solace at night. He had Dean. And so on the 13th morning, with Dean Winchester's arms wrapped firmly around him, Castiel whispered, "Does this mean you'll stop holding me at night?" He was afraid, he did not want to lose Dean, no matter how irrational that want was. Humans are irrational, and he was a human now. His question caused a low chuckle to rise from the green eyed man beside him. His hand cupped Castiel's cheek and he whispered, "I wouldn't dream of it," before leaning in to place a sweet, chaste kiss on the fallen angel's lips.

Castiel decided that he did not need the missing piece of himself, as he had Dean, and all the Grace in heaven was nothing compared to Dean Winchester.


End file.
